"I didn't know."
And to herself she whispered:
"And I don't know now!"
Here among the uplands it was a night of piercing cold. The nearer the dawn drew on, the icier grew the fingers of the wind which swept the ridges and probed into the cañons. For a little while both Lynette and Deveril slept the heavy sleep of exhaustion. But, after the first couple of hours, neither slept beyond brief, uncomfortable dozes. They shivered and woke and stirred; they found a growing torture in the rude couches they slept upon, in the hard ground and stones, which seemed always thrusting up in new places. Long before the night had begun to thin to the first of daybreak's hint, Lynette was sitting, her back to a tree, torn between the two impossibilities, that of remaining awake, that of remaining asleep. Deveril got up and began stamping about, trying to get warm and drive the cramp and soreness out of his muscles.
"A few more days and nights like this," he grumbled, "would be enough to kill a pair of Esquimos! We've got to find us some sort of half-way decent shelter for another night, and we've got to arrange to take a holiday and rest up."
It was all that she could do to keep her teeth from chattering by shutting them hard together; her only answer was a shivery sigh. She could scarcely make him out, where he trod back and forth, the darkness held so thick. She began to think so longingly of a fire that in comparison with its cheer and warmth she felt that possible discovery by Taggart would be a small misfortune. She could almost welcome being put under arrest; taken back to Big Pine and jail; given a bed and covers and one long sleep.
"Awake?" queried Deveril.
She nodded, as though he could see her nod through the dark. Then, with an effort, she said an uncertain: "Y-e-s."
"I'll tell you," he said presently, coming close to her and looking down upon the blot in the darkness which her huddled figure made at the base of the pine. "Taggart will be on his way soon; he'll hardly wait for day. He'll go the straightest, quickest way to the Big Bear country. That means he'll steer on straight into Buck Valley. If you and I went that way, we'd have him and his crowd at our heels all day, and never know how close they were; and I, for one, am damned sick of that feeling that somebody's creeping up on us all the time! So we swerve out from the direct way as soon as we start; we curve off to the north for a couple of miles; then we make a bend around toward the upper end of what I fancy must be the Grub Stake Cañon Joe is headed for. That way we'll always have two or three miles between our trail and theirs; at times we'll be five or six miles off to the side. That means, of course, that they're pretty sure to get to Joe's diggings ahead of us; not over half a day at that. For we're well ahead of them now. And, in any case, you can bet the last sardine we've got that they'll be a day or two just poking around, prospecting and trying to make sure of what they've grabbed off.... Agreed, pardner?"
"Yes. I could even start now, just to get those few miles between our trail and theirs. Then, when the sun was up and it was warm, we could have a rest and an hour's sleep."